The Blonde-haired Farmhand boy
by CherisherAo3
Summary: This is a crack fiction, somone in my discord saw a tumblr post showing a AO3 tag entitled "Potato Farmer AU" I challenged myself and made this amalgamation as a joke towards the tag Hope you enjoy ?
1. Dreamy

As Adrien hauled the bulging sack over his shoulder, Marinette could only imagine herself being carried off in his big, strong, masculine arms. His shirtless torso gleamed with sweat and the rough gardening gloves smeared a streak of dirt across his forehead; the dirt somehow making the man even more charming and perfect. He could be covered top to toe in dirt and fertilizer, and still look the same magnificent blonde that this small farm girl grew to love.

The naturally distressed and slightly baggy jeans, the muddy leather boots that dug into the muck, his oh so ever beautiful biceps bouncing up and down with each picking of potatoes. Everything about this farmhand boy made Marinette's blush swell to new limits.

He would work from early in the morning, starting his day at the crack of dawn with strong hand reaching deep into the ground to rip up the monthly harvest. More often than not, Marinette could see him doing his job from the kitchen hub window, a perfect view of the open dirt fields and her one and only, Adrien.

She would be brushing potatoes when the daydreams hit her; a perfect life filled her mind with Adrien holding her hand in his. In every single dream she had, the handsome farmhand never spoke... he only smiled.

One day she will work up the courage to speak to him, but until then, she would be happy with the view that he gave her.


	2. Secrets

"So I noticed you noticed the new farmhand," the head maid, Alya, said with a sly grin. "It isn't too often you seem to forget that I am literally standing right next to you for a majority of the day. So spill, girl, what is on your mind."

Marinette's feet nervously wrapped themselves around the legs of the chair, her fist balling the off-white apron she wore. Her head down and cheeks bright red.

It was the fifth day of the month of July, the second harvest had come back to the farm, and so had Adrien. While she could tend to her duties for a large portion of her required shift work, Marinette found herself lost in the little world of Adrien too many times. It was bound to happen that her friend, and technically her boss, found out about the silly little crush.

Alya was a thirty-something-year-old woman who held the highest servant stature in the Farm's household. While there was a butler that performed managerial duties for the estate and its employees, Alya lead the pack, so to say.

Marinette was a baker's daughter. She mainly helped out in the kitchen. She was twenty-five going on to twenty-six. She had made many friends, and all on the farm, bar the men, talked to her talked to her with an informal attitude.

Working under this Alya woman had allowed her to strengthen her wits and helped her to alleviate the slight clumsiness that befell her days of youth. She had gained a vital friend in her life; one that she shared her secrets, her troubles, her anxieties, and her personal effects with.

But a bridge of trust goes two ways, and for this instance, the bridge leads to the doom of Marinette's secret crush.

Now, Alya could always keep a secret; that was a promise made everytime she would hear something in confidence. And that wasn't what Marinette was worried about. When Alya learns a terrible secret that you have the misfortune of telling her, she would not only never forget the secret, but she would never allow you to _live it down._

 **Ever.**

You could begin to understand why becoming friends with Alya Césaire... can be both a blessing and a curse.

Marinette sucked in a deep breath and calmed herself.

"I think that he could be... I mean he is quiet, I-I-I mean quiet... quiet... NO... _quite..._ " she stammered before pausing and starting again. "I do think he's kind of... handsome-sweet-funny-and-perfect."

Marinette burrowed her face in her hands, cheeks burning with the shame of everything she just said.

"Hmmp." Alya shrugged and walked out of the room. "Kind of expected more of a reaction from you."

"WhaT?" Marinette called after her, jumping out of the shameful daze and out of the chair. "I was on the verge of dying from shame and you expected more?"

She heard the older woman snicker from down the hallway.

Alya would never let her live this one down.


	3. Buff Potato Adrien

The house was quiet. An old clock turning over to midnight ensured sleep throughout the residence. Dozens of empty rooms sat completely still, illuminated with bright pale blue moonlight. The open-stone kitchen seemed abnormally motionless; pots, pans, knives, apparatuses that are used during the day hang from the walls, abandoned without work.  
Outside stood many large oak trees. They formed a perimeter of the farmyard; many gentle giants that sway with the summer breeze.

A slight echo of a tripping faucet travelled down the hall towards the female servant's quarters. All the women remained within their arranged bedding, slightly distressed from the heat, but asleep nonetheless.

However, there was one woman missing from her bed.  
The Baker's Daughter that could not remove the thought of Adrien, was missing from her bed.

She was walking around outside in the yard, disturbed by the nagging thought of her beloved lingering in her mind.

"Stop this nonsense, Marinette," Marinette whispered to herself as she paced the gravel and dirt courtyard. Her arms wrapped the nightgown around her stomach and she pushed her long blue hair behind her shoulder. "You're a mature adult, you shouldn't need to make up excuses to talk to a man."

She looked up and over to the tall barn standing on the opposite side of the yard. "You need to talk to him."

"Just..." she pushed herself to get the words out. "Open the door, and ask him already."

She took a breath and walked over to the barn.

...

Marinette could hear a faint groan from inside...

It was the same one she heard the previous night, and the night before that, and the night before that... She was awoken by the barn's door being unlocked on the first evening and when she came out to investigate, she had stumbled across the strange noise. It was now a common occurrence and she had her suspicions. And when she had "suspicions", she was absolutely sure who was making the noise.

It was Adrien; she could tell. It wasn't a painful grunt or a troubled cry; instead, it was as if he was picking up something heavy.

She crept closer, hand pushing on the door and allowing the old hinges to swing the door to the side.

Adrien was inside the barn, it was indeed him that was grunting and groaning all the previous nights. Because there he was... hanging upside down with his legs holding onto the rafters in the dark... once again shirtless and flaunting his nice torso.

As soon as he saw Marinette standing in the doorway he froze. Apparently, midnight upside ab crunches were Adrien's secret training regimen.

"Uhhhh..." he said, starting at her as he hung there like a bat, "Hi?"

She had to break away her eye contact and wrap herself up again with the nightgown, the blush that rushed through her entire body left a powerful chill too. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground as she called up to him...

"I..."

 _"I like your face!"_

Then she immediately turned and bolted for the house, desperately fleeing to escape the bright red blush she fostered.


	4. The Butler

The open wood panel Study was of a considerable size. It felt more like a small library, having walls lined with books and a large desk sitting in the corner. It was also quiet enough to host a private conversation between a dirty, subservient potato haulier, Adrien, and his colleague, the Head Butler for the Potato Farm's residence, Nino.

Nino clicked his tongue and fiddled with the dark cuff of his Butler's suit. After looking at Adrien with a serious expression, he folded his arms and glanced around with a troubled sense of indecisive confusion. Nino was bewildered to the point of huffing short breaths in distress, all by this one strange event. He uncrossed his arms and began to fiddle with the Bulter Jacket once more, completely perturbed by Adrien's peculiar case.

Nino Lahiffe was going onto the ripe age of forty-one by the end of the harvest season. His duties included the overseeing of all Managerial actions at the farm and maintaining the well-kept household for his Masters to live in. He also caters as a private servant to the owners of this humble potato farming business — to the owners of one and a half thousand hectares of open flatland farm estate.

He gave Adrien - a past friend of his that he helped out with acquiring a job on the estate - one more look before enquiring further into the matter.

"A Raven Haired... _Banshee_ , you say..." His eyes darted around the room as he tried to remember if the Master hired any _Banshees_ in the last few months. "Well, I can't rightly say that I could put a name to your mysterious woman, Young Mr Adrien. My apologies, I can't be of any help to you."

Adrien took a deep sigh and clapped a hand on the Butler's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. I will surely repay your kindness one day."

"Hmm, hmm, hmm," Nino chuckled with a stroke of his thin pencil moustache, "You could always buy me a drink you know... the offer still stands for your invitation to the local tavern with me."

Adrien's smile grew a little brighter, "Alas my good friend, I cannot join you. You know full-well my situation with the townsfolk, very sensitive that one is."

"Ahh yes, how goes that, by the way?" Nino took a step back into the open study. He twisted around and reached for a small pitcher of water on the table, pouring himself a glass before offering Adrien one as well. "I hear your reputation is preceding you."

"Aye, I know." Adrien took a quick look around the room before lowering his voice, "And I would prefer you to keep to your discretion when discussing my ulterior jobs, as I said, _it is a very sensitive topic_."

"Of course, Young Master Adrien."

Adrien nodded in appreciation. He downed the glass and slowly turned to leave the room when Nino called to him.

"I would, however, advise that you keep this eccentric hobby of yours out of the limelight with the Raven Haired Banshee you were talking about. If I remember correctly, she did see you last night."

"Yes, I am well aware of this, thank you, Nino." Adrien rolled his eyes before grasping the door handle and exiting the room, leaving the Butler with an unsatisfactory taste of clandestine in his mouth.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _Clandestine_ ; a phrase which here means "kept secret or done secretively, especially because **_illicit_** "


	5. A Lepidopterist

_A Lepidopterist;_  
 _A person with a keen interest in the anatomy and collection of Butterflies, Moths, and other such winged insects. While it has been taken as a hobby by most Lepidopterists, there are some who would dedicate their lives to the research of these intricate and frightfully delicate creatures._

 _Some even go as far as putting their commitment towards these insects above everything else in their household_.

* * *

There was a glass dome out the back of the Agreste's home. It was a botanical garden, inhibited with a jungle of plant life of almost every kind. Dozens upon dozens of butterflies filled the air above, silently flapping away in the glass-encased sunlight. Gabriel stooped over the slanted drawing desk he used as a small workshop, a single eye peering into the magnifying glass that hovered over the day's specimens. The collection of butterflies he caught this morning had a striking resemblance to the butterflies he had been researching in the region found further North of Paris.

He lifted a fine hair brush to the wings of the jade-coloured butterfly that sat pinned in the middle of the table. He took special care to ensure their humane death before any research was conducted; no pain would come to any winged creature that passed through his hands. The brush gently pushed at the bright green crystal edges of the wing, his interest peaking at such a strange and unusual phenomenon. Never had he seen green crystals on a butterfly.

Although he spent almost his entire life inside this glass dome, Gabriel still had his duties elsewhere. Alongside this fascination of his, he had become the regions most influential chemist. Using his life work to coincide with his fascination with flighted insects, he often took samples from the creatures to use in his medicines.

Switching the brush for a thin metal pin, he began to delicately extract the strange green crystals from the insect.

Unknown chemical combinations found in nature can be of great benefit towards his career as a chemist. Butterfly Jade, as he now has called the new crystal formation, will be a turning point of interest for his work.

Alongside other smaller self-assigned tasks, Gabriel Agreste had another pressing matter that lingered at the back of his mind...

His wayward son...

Gabriel paused for a moment while he observed the miniscule gem on the tip of the needle in the sunlight. His son Adrien was quite like this gem, the chemist pondered to himself. Adrien was a small but precious part of his life that has severe dramatic effects on what would happen in the following week. If this tiny gem was fool's gold, the week would be wasted. But if his son returned to him before the weekend was out, he wouldn't need to discipline him too harshly.

Gabriel took a step to the side and dropped the pin into a small glass beaker. There were soft pinging sounds at the bottom of the glass as the needle bounced around the empty container. Gabriel set the beaker down and opened the desk's drawer, producing another vial with a clear liquid jostling around inside.

He removed the cork that sealed the vial and poured its contents into the beaker holding the green crystal.

As soon as the liquid made contact, a deep plume of purple whifted around the green crystal, bleeding into the surrounding clear liquid. Gabriel gave the beaker a swirl and within a matter of seconds, the container was filled with a murky purple.

He gave a sigh, "Of course its a Poison..."

As he stared at the beaker of poisonous fluid, he thought back to his son; how Adrien insisted, rather pleaded with him, to allow a six month trial outside the home. How he so desperately wanted the freedom to take a job working at that silly farmland, pulling up potatoes in the dirt like some commoner.

That cursed potato farm was becoming troublesome.

Gabriel's eyes snapped wide open as suddenly remembered a particular characteristic about his butterflies. He remembered that most species that produced poisonous chemicals could also unintentionally leach their poison into the plant life, killing off an environment within days. How a small fleet of innocent looking butterflies could become a deadly weapon against an unsuspecting enemy. How a dozen pretty looking insects could ruin the livelihood of hundreds of workers and destroy an entire farm within a week, all without cause for suspicion.

He grinned.

"Maybe the week won't be ruined after all..."


	6. The Owners

It was a Thursday.

It was a day that Marinette could finally shift her works schedule around to fit in a particular meeting. She had been planning this for days, talking to Alya and the other servants about it. She was ready, and excited to be so.

Marinette smoothed out the creases of her apron as she walked down the hallway towards the west wing of the house. Far from the kitchen and her duties, Marinette had made an appointment with The Owners.

Having met them during her orientation of the farm, Marinette could say she wasn't terrified - but she was definitely anxious. The lingering thoughts of their wealth and influence sent shivers down her spine.  
Just imagine being that rich... that your only business is a potato farm... and yet, everything goes perfectly without of a hitch. Being absolutely set for life and not worrying about the future.

There were two owners to the farm - a husband and wife. Rumour has it that they're completely incompatible with each other, yet their love was like nothing else. They built their business off of that; a small personal competition between them that led to a massive overhaul of the country's food suppliers, and the birth of the largest dual-owned farm in France. Although they were married, they chose to keep their respective last names.

And thus... **'Kurtzberg and Bourgeois'** was formed as a full-fledged business.

Marinette approached the breakfast room, no doubt where the power couple were enjoying their morning meal. Her built-up tension was slowly mounting to a dull ache in the bottom of her heart - until she entered the room, then that feeling seemed to disappear altogether. Being rich did not make you superhuman; they were like everyone else. They sat at a small round table facing two open french doors overlooking an expansive countryside. They were quiet, savouring the silence with a pot of Rose tea shared between them, simply gazing off into the distance.

It almost seemed rude to interrupt them.

"M'lord, M'lady," Marinette addressed them with a quiet bow.

The Red-headed gentleman turned around first, his teacup brought to his lips as his blue eyes peered over the rim to stare at Marinette. He brought down the cup and patted at his lips with a handkerchief. "Yes, Young Lady? What is it?"

"I wished to speak with you about the staff members we recently acquired for the harvesting seasons. If that is alright with you, M'lord."

"Ah, of course, it is." He gestured to an empty seat to his right before turning back to the view. But before she stepped forward to address him again, he raised his teacup and quipped out a short question. "However, I'm I right in guessing this has something to do with the young farmhand you've taken interest in?"

Marinette nearly choked on her own spit. A knowing smile crept across the face of Chloe Bourgeois and Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

Chloe was the one to turn around this time. "Then this shall be a quick conversation, I'm sure you needn't worry about sitting for too long," she chuckled.


	7. The Stern Talking to

Chloe lent back into the decorative steel swirls of the breakfast room chairs; her arm coming around the chair and hooking under her chin to cushion her head on the rounded metal backing.

"So, young Lady," Chloe probed, raising a curious eyebrow. "What makes this fellow so special?" Nathaniel kept an amused smile as he too lent back in his chair, unbuttoning his waistcoat and getting comfortable.

Marinette couldn't form a full sentence as she babbled with embarrassment, cheeks rosy red and her shoulders pulled up in defence. She felt like a child again, being questioned by her parents about some naughty thing she had done.

Chloe was like the mother that was a little bit too invasive into her daughter's affairs; but additionally wanted everything that was happening, to happen. Nathaniel was like the father that already knew what was going on - yet chooses to keep quiet in order to humiliate his child as they tried to explain themselves.

"I don't know what you mean, M'lady," Marinette managed to get out after some fussing.

"Oh, come now. Do you expect us to believe that story?" Nathaniel piped up, waving his hand dismissively as Marinette continued to blush.

Nathaniel and Chloe were being extremely inquisitive towards Marinette... and for good reason. Every day for the past three months they had been secretly observing the little blossoming relationship from afar. So much so that they neglect to run the business anymore until a substantial verdict between Marinette and Adrien has been achieved.

"Name eight things that aren't Adrien. Go!" Chloe suddenly demanded.

"Umm!" Marinette snapped up straight in her chair and began listing. "Dresses, waistcoats, potatoes, an elephant, Adrien, farming equipment..." she paused after realising what she said, "Ahh, curses..."

The two farm owners shared a knowing smirk. They had everything down to the last detail.

Nathaniel and Chloe leaned forward and joined their hands as they turned to Marinette. "There is nothing to be afraid of, young lady," Nathaniel commented while they squeezed their hands together, "Love is a powerful thing."

"Sometimes," Chloe clarified, "the thing is a little too powerful!" They exchanged a chuckle.

Nathaniel continued. "Sometimes, you have to let these things take place in your life. And while we haven't talked to Adrien yet, we can tell he has a special interest in you too."

Marinette froze a little in silence.

"I recommend," Nathaniel offered... "that you don't let this fish swim away from you."

"..."

 _"Seriously,"_ Chloe whispered, squinting as she looked dejectedly at her husband _"you went with the fish metaphor?"_

 _"Shh!"_ Nathaniel whispered back, _"I'm trying to make a point while using - our - example as a basis of success."_

 _"Hold on. Are you saying I was the fish that nearly swam away from you?"_

 _"I didn't say_ that, _Dearest,"_ he snapped his eye contact away from Marinette and glared at his wife, _"I meant it as a metaphor and nothing more."_

 _"It sounded like you meant I was the fish."_

"But we're not talking about that now, we're talking about Marinette's situation right now, and Adrien is the fish. In my case, for the briefest of times, you were the fish..."

"Just then, just then, you said I was the fish!"

"Yes, gottdamn it, woman! You were the fish! But that was years ago. You were my fish _\- Years and Years ago! -_ You are no longer the fish! You haven't been a fish for over two decades! Drop the fish!" Nathaniel very nearly shouted.

"..."

"They were your words, not mine," Chloe argued back.

"We're not talking about you, we are talking about Marinette, and she needs the fish metaphor way more than you right now," he looked up and went to talk to Marinette... "hold on... where is she?"

Both of them looked around the room but Marinette was already gone.


	8. Mystery Letter

Marinette was a well-educated woman. She could do the many ingenious tricks from her knowledge of the times; like reading, writing, letter composure, and a plethora of other skills. Receiving a letter was a common occurrence for anyone, especially so for Marinette - for Marinette was a well-educated woman.

This time, however, Marinette felt a certain fluttering in her chest when she received one particular letter. She had found it early in the evening, just after dinner when the servants had time to freshen up in their quarters. One of the other girls mentioned that a farmhand walked in here earlier that day and left it on the table without saying a word.

It was addressed to 'The lady with the Dark Azure hair', in a flowy cursive hand, from an unknown sender with about the same anonymity as a gunshot ringing through an echoes mountain valley. The paper was rough, scratchy, slightly yellowed from an oiled-wood desk, and bolstered many dirty fingerprints where the sender held the corners to fold the document.

It screamed 'Adrien'.

While she would inevitably unfold and read the letter, that didn't stop her from being a nervous wreck. Nagging thoughts of doubt plagued her mind. The letter she clutched in her hand crumpled as she squeezed it closer to her chest. Its texture was exactly a personification of Adrien, the one she admired for so long, yet could not hold a conversation with. Running her thumb over the dark dirty spots of the paper made her feel an intangible connection between her fingertips and his. The soothing noise of rubbing the coarse paper under her thumb eased her sharp breathing.

While every inclination of her heart screamed at her to lift the folded edges of the letter, she had to restrain herself. She couldn't read it right now, not while she still had the masters to attend to in the evening activities. This was a personal matter that had to be dealt with enough time and patience so she could fully grasp the meaning and understanding of his letter. No doubt it would take at least half an hour to fully read through the letter.

It could wait until after she was finished her work.

Walking over to her cot, she slid the letter in between the bedclothes, discreetly hiding it from the others - and herself - until she could read it at a later time. She looked back at it before she left the room, noting the strange emptiness of her hand that once held his letter. She couldn't help but wonder what he wrote that so desperately needed her attention.

Avoiding the gaze of the fellow servants - as well as Alya's - Marinette returned to the side of Monsieur and Mme. Kurtzberg & Bourgeois, unfazed by the onerous weight of Adrien's letter bearing down on her.


	9. Kitchen Discussions

Dinner was finished and the Kitchen had once again grown quieter without the bustle of servants. Outside in the hallway, footsteps approached.

"And what do you think of this whole situation, Mademoiselle Césaire?" Nino raised his hand and held the Kitchen door open for her, following in after. "I found some difficulty **lying** to my good friend, Adrien, relating the topic of this 'Raven-Haired Banshee' that he positively _insists_ on talking about. So, I don't know how much longer I can last, especially if he keeps insisting."

"At this moment, all we can do is persist against his insists." Alya smiled as she chuckled at the small joke.

She set down a small silver tray on the benchtop and prepared two glasses for the two Masters' Nightcaps. She paused for a second in silence, staring down at the glasses; she knew this was a conversation she has to have at some point.

Alya turned around and sighed, leaning up against the kitchen bench with arms crossed in a worried manner. "Granted... I have to agree with you; Marinette is becoming more and more distracted from her duties every time I see her. It was only tonight that she took things more seriously than usual. I find it rightfully troubling."

Nino stroked his thin pencil moustache. "A development in their relationship you suppose?" Nino enquired, walking over to the cabinet in the wall to pull out a bottle of Scotch. Popping the seal of the diamond shaped stopper, he picked up the glasses and poured the two nightcaps.

"Ha!" Alya pulled out another glass from the hanging rack above and set it down on the table, suggesting Nino to pour her one too. "With the way that crazy girl does things, I can only hope!"

Nino sighed too, leaning up against the table beside Alya and pulling down a glass of his own. After pouring both drinks, they sat there is silence for a bit, taking in the serenity of the quiet room. "You know, ever since I became the Head Butler of this estate I always wondered if I," he poked his chest with the hand that held his glass, "could experience true Love... But..." he looked dejectedly down at the alcoholic drink that swirled as he spun it, "an old man like me has little hope that - _that_ \- would ever work out."

"Pshhh," Alya nudged his shoulder, "An old man like you?"

"Excuse me, I have my grey hairs," he grinned through a sip of the Scotch, "I just keep them hidden somewhere up there. Plus you're younger, at least you still have a chance at finding love."

"Well, I doubt you'll ever experience love if you're not willing to find it," Alya commented as she peered into her glass, throwing her head back and downing the last few drops of the golden-brown liquid. She pushed off the table and collected the silver tray from the table. "Especially if you think you're too old for that sort of stuff."

Nino pulled at his vest and straightened his bowtie. "Didn't say I was too old, I just meant my ideal woman wouldn't go for someone like me."

"Oh?" Alya raised an eyebrow and planted a hand on her hip. "The living fossil has an Ideal woman? Do tell me what your mysterious type is before I leave to attend to the Masters."

He finished his drink then looked her dead in the eyes. "You."

Alya... blinked a few times.

She didn't overreact, she didn't blush, nor stammer like Marinette does. Instead, she merely said, "Fair enough... See you later for another drink," before silently nodding and leaving the room.

Nino was left alone in an empty Kitchen, leaning up against the old wood table with his scotch glass in hand and the words, "Well, that worked out better than I anticipated," on his lips.


End file.
